Hunter's Helper (or not)
by IamSuperWhoLockedAllOverAgain
Summary: Sam finds a cat while hunting a ghost. Dean lets him take it back to the bunker, but is it just a cat...or something else? I only own Marina. First attempt at a fanfic, so please be kind in reviews! Rating could change to M in the future (tossing quite a few ideas around in my head right now!), so beware. Possible Destiel later.
1. Chapter 1: Familiar

I rotated my shoulders forward, shaking off the tension that had been building for the past week, ever since we started hunting down the witch's spirit. Thankfully, salting and burning the remains puts a human spirit to rest no matter what they did in life, so while I distracted the ghost with a fake ritual, Dean took his sweet time dealing with the body in the crypt. After salting and pouring lighter fluid over the body, he lit a match, then let it fall just as the spirit turned to see him. With a shriek, she started towards him. She only got two or three strides in, however, before she herself burst into flame and disappeared.

"Well, that's done," he said, brushing off his hands on his well-worn jeans. "Whaddya say we head back to the bunker and hit the hay?"

"Sounds like a plan," I answered. "It's after 3 am, and I actually want to get some shut-eye tonight."

"Sure thing," he said. "Just let me get my…WHAT THE HELL?!" he yelled suddenly, grabbing at his pant leg. I stifled a laugh as he started to hop on one booted foot and flail the other in the air, as if he was trying to shake something off. Before I could say anything, though, I heard angry hisses and yowling, so I had a pretty good idea of what had suddenly attacked Dean's leg.

"Wait, Dean! Put your foot down! It's just a scared cat!" I shouted, trying to be heard above the noise and get him to calm down. He did, glaring at the green-eyed kitten that had its claws embedded in his favorite pair of jeans. I reached down, hoping to disentangle the thing from his leg, when it turned and looked right at me, seeming almost indignant.

"Shh, it's alright; I'm not going to hurt you," I whispered softly to the small cat, crouching down to see it better. To my surprise, the kitten cocked its head to the right, seeming to consider my statement, then retracted its claws and fell to the ground with a soft thump. It padded over to my feet, then closed its eyes and started rubbing its head against my outstretched palm, purring up a storm.

"Is that a cat?" Dean asked (sometimes he's a little slow on the uptake). "I think it likes you."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe it was the witch's familiar or something." I sighed at the look of confusion on my brother's face. "You know, animals/humans that are supposedly demons in disguise, helping witches with their spellwork. That's where the 'black cats are bad luck' legend came from. We met a few when we helped clear James' name; remember Portia and Phillipe? This one seems happy to see us, though, so maybe the bond wasn't very strong." I scratched the cat behind the ears and looked at it, thinking it would turn into its human form. Nothing happened, though.

"Or maybe it's just a freaky black cat in a graveyard. Now, here's the real question: what are we going to do with it?"

I looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean, do with it?" I asked. Obviously we were keeping it! There was no way it could survive on its own. I mean, it was just a kitten!

"Now, Sam, you know we can't keep it. We're either on the road or at the bunker all the time and I will not have that…that…thing getting cat hair all over Baby's upholstery! Not to mention that I'm allergic to cats! Besides, it doesn't seem to like me very much. I mean, look what it did to my pants!" He stuck out his bottom lip, frowning, and held the aforementioned pant leg out for my inspection. Honestly, I couldn't see any difference.

"Dean, we can get a cat carrier for the car or something. It's too small to be on its own, and you're not that allergic. Please, Dean?" I begged, giving him my best puppy-dog eyes. "I bet it'll even eat scraps." I'd picked up the cat earlier and was holding it protectively in my arms. When I mentioned the scraps, however, it glared at me, then promptly sneezed in my face.

"Fine," Dean sighed (he can't resist my puppy eyes; believe me, he's tried). Then he cracked a smile. "I don't think it liked the idea of eating leftovers, though, Sam. We better get some pet stuff tomorrow morning." He picked up both of our bags and started to head back to the car. Then he stopped.

"What?" I asked.

"Is it a girl or a boy?" he wondered aloud.

I checked in the lights shining from the parking lot. "Girl," I told him.

"'kay," he said, throwing our stuff in the trunk of the Impala. As we got in the car, the cat busied herself burrowing into my inside jacket pocket (trying to get warm, I guess).

As we drove off, I smiled to myself. "What is it?" Dean asked, pulling onto the interstate. He looked at me in confusion. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…I mean…I've never had a real pet before. It's a little weird. Having something other than you to take care of."

"Aw, Sammy's a daddy now! How cute." He smirked. "Seriously though, what are we going to need? I don't know the first thing about taking care of a cat. I mean, food, duh. But what else?"

"I don't even know. Let's get some books while we're at the pet store tomorrow and find out."

#################################

We finally got back to the bunker around 4. I stripped and headed to the bathroom to shower off the grime of a hard day's work.

After quickly soaping up and rinsing off, I stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, then tied it around my waist. "M'kay, your turn…" I said to Dean as I headed to my room. When I passed by Dean's room on the way to mine, I saw them. "Um, Dean…what are you doing?"

He looked up at me and blinked. "Dude, this cat is weird. I swear, it's glaring at me." I snickered. "What?" he asked, looking slightly offended that I found his predicament amusing.

"All cats look like they're glaring at you. You're being paranoid," I said. I picked up the cat off the bed where she was sitting and held her in my arms. "Go take a shower, Dean. I'll be asleep by the time you get out." When he left, I went to my room and put the cat on the floor. I changed into a gray t-shirt and a pair of boxers. I headed to my bed, closing my eyes while I yawned. When I opened them, I looked down at my bed to see a pair of bright green eyes staring up at me. "Hey, get off. That's my bed," I half-protested, making apathetic shooing motions with my hands. The cat just rolled over on her back, begging for a belly rub. "Fine. Whatever. I'm too tired to argue, anyway," I muttered, scratching her belly a little as I climbed under the sheets and turned off the lamp, soon falling fast asleep with my new pet snuggling my side.


	2. Chapter 2: Irony

"What should we name her, anyway? I mean, we can't just call her 'the cat' all the time. That's just rude," I mused aloud as we walked into the pet store a few towns over. I started over to the book section, looking for one about cats. "I know! What about Shadow? 'Cuz she's a black cat and will blend in with the shadows, y'know?"

"Dude. Seriously? Shadow? Please tell me you can come up with something more creative than that," he said mockingly. I sighed. He was right, of course, but I was stumped. However, as I was flipping through one of the books, I got an idea.

"Hey, Dean."

"What?" he answered, looking up from a selection of cat toys.

"What about Cat?"

"What about it?"

"What do you think of it? You know, as a name," I said. "Don't give me that look!" I protested as he started to roll his eyes at me. "Seriously. It could be short for something, like, uh…Catherine. Or Catie." I thought this was a stroke of genius on my part. Dean, on the other hand, wasn't so sure.

"I dunno…but it's better than Shadow. And she's your cat, so…whatever. What else do we need to get for Cat?" He looked at the list I'd written on my hand:

Crate

Bowls (food & water)

Food (wet? Dry? Both?)

Litter box

Litter

Toys (catnip?)

Collar

Tags

Vet?

"We've got a lot of work to do. Let's split up."

#####################################

We split the list evenly, getting Cat everything I thought she'd need. We even got her a little purple collar (Dean refused to get her a pink one, even though I thought it would make it totally obvious that we had a girl cat) with a small bell and a round tag that read:

"CAT"

If found, call

(315) 555-1764

Then we piled back into the Impala and headed back to the bunker, where we'd left Cat locked in the bathroom with some leftover sausage from breakfast. Looking back, I should have seen what happened next coming from a mile away. I mean, the signs were all there; I had just been too tired to notice. But, hey. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, right?


	3. Chapter 3: Hot Showers

After I heard the door close, I waited a minute or two longer, just to be sure those hunters hadn't accidentally forgotten something and walked in on me shifting. I hadn't exactly had a chance to grab any clothes on my way out of the cemetery.

While I waited, I finished the now cool sausage patties the taller one had put in the corner for me. I liked him. I could tell he had a good heart. Not that the bulkier one didn't, exactly...that one's mind just didn't feel right. It stank ever so faintly of canine, which made me think werewolf, but the scent wasn't quite right, and it wasn't nearly strong enough. That was just weird enough to put me on edge.

I licked my paws and cleaned my face, then closed my eyes and focused, trying to find my center, the part that was always fundamentally me, no matter what form I happened to be in at that time. I began the transformation slowly, taking my time. It had been awhile since I'd done this, and I was a little out of practice.

Opening my eyes, I stood on two feet for the first time in a long while. I stretched, then looked at myself critically in the mirror. I had been sore, but now I could see the full extent of the damage. Bruises littered my entire body, though my chest and belly had taken the brunt of the abuse. No broken bones or dislocated joints; that was good, right? I looked closer at my face, then grimaced. Not my best hair day, not to mention the shadows underneath my eyes had gotten considerably darker. What I needed was a hot shower with lots of soap and a nice nap. Yeah, that sounded great...

###############################################

As Dean and I pulled into the bunker's garage, I smiled to myself again. "You sure are happy lately, Sam," Dean commented. "What is it this time?"

"Nothing. I just...we just finished shopping for stuff for our pet cat. We just...don't do normal stuff like that. I mean, don't get me wrong; I love saving the world, averting the apocalypse, all that. But it's nice to pretend to be 'normal' every once in awhile."

"OK, first of all, she's your cat, not our cat. Second of all, I'm glad you like feeling normal and all, but don't let that distract you, Sam. We have a job to do, and I can't watch out for you while you're pining away for a white picket fence, rose garden, and two-point-five kids with a trophy wife and a dog." He looked at the expression on my face, then clarified, "Not that those aren't things you should want, Sam. Hell, I want them, too. Just...not while we're hunting, OK?" He opened the door to the bunker and walked in as he said this.

I was about to come back with a smart-ass retort when Dean stopped suddenly and held up his hand, stopping me in my tracks. He asked, "Did you leave the shower running this morning?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"No. I took one last night. Did you?" I asked, confused. I could hear the water running in the bathroom, as well.

"Nope," he said, getting a suspicious look on his face and pulling his gun from the waistband of his jeans and slowly cocking it while walking cautiously toward the bathroom door at the back of the hall. I did the same. The bunker was supposed to be warded against pretty much everything, so how had someone gotten in?! We both proceeded with cautious steps toward the closed bathroom door, prepared for anything. Or so we thought.

################################

I was shampooing my hair for the third time under the hot spray from the showerhead when it happened. Without warning, the locked door was kicked in with a large CRASH, and of course I screamed. I was so startled, I jumped and slipped on the floor of the tub, falling over the edge with a loud CRACK! as my right shoulder smacked into the floor outside, tangling myself in the shower curtain and ripping it off the rod in the process. With the wind knocked out of me, all I could do was lay on the floor with my eyes closed and moan. "Damn it!" I hissed out through clenched teeth. That hurt!

The room was silent for a few moments, except for the sound of the shower, still running. I cracked open my eyes, one at a time. If I hadn't been in so much pain, I would have laughed at what I saw. Instead, I just looked up and muttered "Shit," under my breath, trying to catch it at the same time.

Both hunters stood just inside the doorway, mouths agape. The taller one quickly clamped his had over his eyes, still pointing the gun in the other at me while he blushed. The stockier one, however, had a grin slowly spreading across his face. He lowered his gun as I glared at him, still smirking. Seriously? Was he hitting on me right after he broke down the door of the room I was showering in? I would have clocked him right then and there, if I hadn't been in such a compromising position, in more ways than one.

"So...not that I mind, sweetheart...but who are you, exactly, and why are you showering in our bathroom?" The shorter one was the first to speak.

I gingerly pulled myself into a sitting position, holding the slightly mangled shower curtain around my torso and upper thighs to try and preserve my last few shreds of modesty (I refused to believe I'd tossed them all to the wind when I fell out of the tub). I winced, then glared at the both of them again, since the taller one had uncovered his eyes and lowered his gun, as well.

"My name is Marina," I spat out, indignant despite myself. I mean, this was their home and all, but I was showering, for Christ's sake! I gathered the shower curtain around me as I stood up. Before they could say anything, I hurried on, "and that's all you're going to get out of me in this state. If you want any more information, you'll put those guns away, bring me some clothes to change into, and let me rinse out this shampoo that's dripping into my eyes as we speak. In peace, if you'd be so kind."

I think I gave them quite a shock, because they did exactly as I asked with nary a peep, although they gave me a few furtive glances before they tossed me a pair of jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and a pair of boxers. I could only hope everything was freshly laundered.

I rinsed out the shampoo, then conditioned the ends and dried my hair with one towel and dried the rest of my body with another. After pulling on the underwear and pants, I slowly buttoned up the shirt, wondering how exactly I was going to explain this situation to them. Finally, I decided to just tell them the truth. After all, they were hunters and were more likely to believe me than civilians; heck, they might have even come across my kind before.

I blew out a large breath of air, then started forward to the doorway. Might as well get this over with sooner or later, and I had a feeling sooner would be better.


	4. Chapter 4: Mer

Dean and I sat at the table in the library, awkwardly waiting for the strange girl in the shower to finish up. I'd suddenly remembered my new pet and I busied myself looking for the kitten while we waited. When she was nowhere to be found, I started to panic.

"Dean, where could she be?! It's not like we left the door open or anything! C'mon, help me look for her!"

"Sam, calm down," my brother said without a trace of worry in his voice. "She's probably hiding from Crazy Shower Girl or something. She'll show up eventually. Don't worry about it. Sit down and relax."

I sat down and tried to do as he told me, still wondering where Cat was. Now that I looked around the bunker, there were at least a million places I hadn't checked that she could have squeezed into. What if she was trapped? What if-?

"Hey," Marina said, making me jump. I hadn't seen her come out of the bathroom. Now that I wasn't worried about seeing something she didn't want me to, I gave her a once-over.

Her hair was a dark brown that sort of reminded me of chocolate, and it was starting to curl around her ears at the ends as it dried. She had very pale, almost translucent skin, which put the dark circles under eyes and a few yellowing bruises into sharp relief on her oval-ish face. She was really tiny, maybe 5'4", but she looked even smaller in Dean's plaid shirt and jeans as she crawled into one of the other chairs and held her knees to her chest. She would have been pretty if it hadn't been for the bruises and wary look on her face as she shifted her eyes from Dean to me, then back again. "So," she began. "What do you want to know?"

"How did you get into the bunker?" Dean asked, not beating around the bush in the least bit. He's not very patient. Personally, I wanted to know where she'd put Cat while she hijacked our shower, but I let Dean go first.

She smiled, looking almost sheepish. "Actually, I got in late last night...or early this morning, however you want to think about it. You guys actually brought me in, remember?" she asked, looking as if she hoped to jog some memory we had both forgotten. I was confused.

"You followed us?! Why?" I asked indignantly. She better have a good reason for being a stalker! If Dean or I had done something like that to someone we didn't know, we would have been arrested for sure.

"No...damn it, do I have to spell it out for you two?" she questioned us while looking at us like we were idiots. Dean crossed his arms across his chest, frowning.

"Please," he said snarkily, at which she narrowed her eyes.

"Fine," she sighed, pulling her legs even closer to her chest, looking suddenly nervous. "Considering how you both took care of the ghost last night, I figured you were hunters. Am I right?" she asked. We both nodded. "OK, at least I was right about that. Now, I don't want you guys to freak out, OK? I'm not evil, I swear. I'm just not...totally human."

##########################################################

Dean was the first to break the shocked silence following her statement. "Well, we aren't exactly normal, either. Sammy and I...well, we've seen and done things even other hunters probably wouldn't believe. Trust me. I'm sure we've heard worse." How could he be so calm?!, I thought.

"So, if you're not totally human, then...what are you?" I queried, asking the obvious next question on the table. She relaxed a little, obviously pleased that we appeared to be taking this so well and weren't going to gank her. At least, not at the moment.

"I'm half mer," she stated.

"Sorry, what?" Dean asked.

"Half mer. You know, like mermaid?" she said like it should have been obvious what she was talking about. Both my brother's and my jaw dropped. Then we looked at each other. Was she serious? Mermaids?

Seeing our astonished (and probably dubious) expressions, her words started tripping over each other in her rush to explain. "My mom was...is a hunter. She was taking care of this ghost at some old lighthouse on the east coast when she met my dad. Apparently, it was love at first sight. I guess there are rules about that kind of thing, though, because my dad totally freaked and kept it a secret for as long as he could when he found out my mom was pregnant. The mer community found out, though, and my father was imprisoned, then executed for his 'crime' against merkind. My mom escaped, though, before they could take me away from her." Here, she paused, sniffling. "We've basically been on the run ever since I can remember. I thought we were doing OK, but then...they found us."

"Who found you?" I asked, curious despite my disbelief. It's not that she didn't seem sincere; we just hadn't come across...mer... before.

"The royal guard." She shuddered, then seemed to collect herself. "I guess they're like the FBI of the ocean or whatever," she said, rolling her eyes. "But suits are suits no matter what species they are, and I know how to get away when I want to. I gave them the slip, but...they took my mom. That's why I was going to see that witch; I heard she had news of where my mom was. Turns out, I almost walked straight into a trap. Thankfully, I had shifted into a black cat earlier, so..."

"Wait, a cat? How is that a mermaid?" Dean interrupted.

She smiled indulgently, as if explaining a concept to a small child. "How do you think merkind have escaped humanity's notice for so long, aside from a few random fishermen? They're like skinwalkers, only they can turn into any animal they want, especially when frightened or in danger. It's usually a sea animal, like a fish or a dolphin or something, but they can do it on land, as well. It's saved my ass more times than I can count, I'll tell you that.

"Anyway, the witch was suspicious of a random cat suddenly hanging around her place, but she couldn't tell for sure what I was. So she put a hex on me, keeping me in my cat form. When I didn't show, the royal guard were pissed. They lost their tempers and slit her throat before she could explain why I didn't appear to be there. They also trashed her place and kicked me around a lot, hence the bruises," she broke off, pointing to her face and arms. "Then they left. I've been trapped in cat form for about two weeks now. Then you guys showed up, laid her to rest, and broke the spell. Thanks for that, by the way."

Dean smirked. "Not a problem, sweetheart." He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table (bad manners, I know, but I have to pick my battles with him). "No offense, but how do we know you're telling the truth? I mean, we only have your word to go on right now."

She straightened, indignant. "Fine. If you won't take my word for it, I'll just have to prove it to you. Fill the bathtub. I'll show you my mer form. Then you'll have to believe me." She pushed herself out of the chair, unfolding her legs and stalking to the bathroom once more. Dean and I looked at each other, then followed. Now this I had to see.


	5. Chapter 5: Ticklish

"Son of a bitch..." Dean muttered, eyes wide as he stared at her tail. It was gray and looked smooth, sort of like a dolphin's. I was speechless. Marina had taken off the pants and boxers we had given her (which were way too big on her), then sat down in the tub with a petulant look on her face as Dean filled the tub close to the brim with warm water. As soon as her lower body was submerged, her legs had quickly started to fuse and change color.

"Can I...can I touch it?" I asked cautiously, not wanting to be disrespectful. She raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno. Can you?" she asked sarcastically. I gave her my bitch face. Great. She was a grammar Nazi as well as a mermaid.

"May I touch it?" I asked again, this time with proper grammar. She smiled, then leaned back on her hands.

"Be my guest," she said, lifting up the end. I reached out slowly, a little nervous. "OK, seriously? Just touch it already! That's not the end that bites, anyway." She rolled her eyes, obviously impatient to get this over with. I touched it. It was smooth and a little slippery, just like I imagined a porpoise's skin would be. Dean looked at me warily. I knew he wondered what it would feel like, also, but he wasn't about to ask.

"Seriously, Dean; it's alright. It's just really smooth; more like a dolphin than a fish," I said, rubbing the fin at the end. She giggled. "What?"

She ducked her head and wrinkled her nose as she smiled. "That...tickles," she said. She looked up at Dean. "Mer are mammals, like whales or porpoises. We aren't an inter-phylum species, like half fish or whatever. Those don't exist anymore, as far as I know. Here," and she flopped her tail over the edge, holding up the end within his reach. He looked back and forth between her face and her tail, still not sure. She rolled her eyes again (she tended to do that a lot) and reached for his hand. Before he could pull away, she put his palm flat against the base of her tail, right above her fin, and held it there. Obviously, she was stronger than she looked.

His eyes widened, then relaxed when nothing else happened. She laughed outright this time. "What, did you think I was going to sting you? I'm not a jellyfish. " She laughed again, this time a bit quieter. She thought to herself for a moment, then looked up at both of us. "How old are you guys, anyway? I mean, I'm guessing early to mid-thirties, but hunters tend to look older than their numeric age. Too much alcohol and stress, not enough sleep, all that."

I said, "Well, I just turned 31 a few months ago, so that makes Dean 35, I think. How old are you? We never asked."

"I'm twenty-three," she replied. I looked at her in disbelief. I had a hard time believing she was even eighteen. She was so tiny and kind of...adorable in a little-girl kind of way. Apparently, Dean thought the same.

"You sure about that?" he questioned as he sat down on the bathroom floor. "You don't even look legal." She scoffed at that.

"Thanks, but mer age slower than humans. My father wI think I'm somewhere in the middle, since I'm part human. Also, I'm kinda vertically challenged; hence, the chibi cuteness factor." She then turned around, gently put her tail back and pulled the plug on the drain, letting the water flow down the pipes. She looked up. "The water is cooling off. Can you guys give me a lift back to the witch's house? I'd like to grab my stuff that I stashed there. Not that this isn't nice and all, but," she said, looking down at the semi-wet plaid shirt that was about 5 sizes too big, "I'd like to get back into my own clothes, if you don't mind."

"Sure," I said, standing up and grabbing Dean by the collar on my way out of the bathroom. It would be just like him to try and get a free show by "helping" her out of the tub, and I really didn't want to be in the car with a pissed off mermaid.


	6. Chapter 6: Ringtones and Garth

As the guys and I opened the front door to what used to be the witch's entryway, I started immediately looking around for my army surplus duffle bag. Where could she possibly have stashed that thing? It's not exactly like it was tiny. Dean, I think his name was, wandered off in the general direction of the kitchen. I smiled to myself; stereotypical man.

Sam still didn't trust me to be by myself, apparently, because he followed me around the abandoned home with his handgun out and ready. Fine. Honestly, I didn't blame him after the fit I pitched when I saw what they had in the car. I mean, a crate? Seriously? Whatever. Honestly, as soon as I found my bag, I was gonna call Garth & ask him to pick me up. He'd be able to fix me up with something that would at least get me from A to B. Now, where the hell was that thing? I decided to check under the stairs first.

"What are we looking for, exactly?" Sam asked.

"An army surplus duffle, circa 1940's or 50's. A couple of duct tape patches on the body. Heavy duty canvas. That's got my work clothes, plus most of my heavy-duty hunting gear and a few odds and ends. Then there's my leather satchel; it's basically my version of 'Hunter Lite.' Smaller versions of just about everything you could need: silver knife, flask of holy water, salt, fake ID's, etc. That's about it, I think. She scrapped my car, which would have been enough reason to gank her, if only on principle. I mean, who does that to a '69 Charger?"

"She scrapped a what?" Dean yelled from the hallway behind me. I guess he got tired of searching for snacks. "Oh, man, that is not cool. Next to Baby, that's my favorite car. Son of a bitch...," he muttered, obviously almost as upset as I that she'd destroyed such a beautiful car. Sam looked back and forth between us, an amused smirk on his face. Dean noticed. "What?"

"You guys are just so similar. It's funny, that's all. Hey, Marina," he turned to me suddenly. I could almost see the lightbulb go on above his head. "Do you have any cell phones in your duffel or satchel?" I facepalmed, feeling stupid. I should have thought of that first instead of wandering around this creepy old house. I rattled off the number that I used most often, then waited while Sam punched it into his phones. A few seconds later, the groaning and wheezing sound of the TARDIS from Doctor Who came from the living room. Jackpot.

#####################################

When her phone went off, I almost choked. The TARDIS? Really? But then again, this girl had already blown my expectations out of the water. Heck, why not the TARDIS? It just seemed to fit her.

"What the hell is that supposed to be?" Dean asked while she pounced on her duffel and leather bag, which had been unceremoniously dumped on the couch in the living room. "It sounds like dinosaurs or something." She found the phone and looked up.

"British sci-fi is a bit like the supernatural: never try to apply logic, it'll only make your head hurt," she gave as her only explanation while she scrolled down a menu, then put the flip phone to her ear. She waited a few seconds, then replied to the answer on the other end with a "Hey, Garth." I heard shouting from the other end, and I knew I would have recognized that voice anywhere, even if she hadn't mentioned his name. The Garth? As in, the hunter-turned-dispatch-man-turned-friendly-werewolf?

"No, just...I just...I'm fine...no, I've got a ride. I'm in Kansas. Yes, I'm alright, I swear. Just a witch...I told you, I'm fine. I've hooked up with some other hunters...names?" She looked up at this to see Dean and I with our mouths open. "What?" she asked, daring us with her eyes to eavesdrop. Then she turned back to her phone. "No, not you. They look surprised is, all." She put her hand over the mouthpiece and asked, "Sam and Dean, right?" I nodded dumbly. "Sam and Dean. No, I didn't bother to ask for a last name. Winchester?...OK. Yeah, sure." She pulled the phone away from her ear, her brow furrowed. "He wants to talk to one of you." I reached for the phone.

"Hey, Garth. How's it going?"

"Don't 'Hey, Garth,' me!" he huffed. "I haven't heard from you guys ever since the whole incident with Bess, and now I hear you're teaming up with Dolphin girl? What gives, man? I thought you guys were hidden away in that bunker of yours, working on getting names outta that demon ya'll got locked up in your basement. You need to keep me in the loop, ya idjit," he huffed again. I could tell he was frustrated, but not necessarily angry. More...worried?

"We just met her, Garth. Dean and I just happened to be going after the same target as her, that's all. What are you so worked up about?" I asked.

"Never mind. Hand the phone back to her, will ya?" he said gruffly. I did as he asked, raising an eyebrow at Marina as I did so. She ignored it, taking the phone back. She listened for a few more minutes, rolling her eyes every few minutes at something Garth said that she didn't appear to agree with. Soon after, she closed her phone with a click and looked back and forth between my brother and I, a thoughtful frown on her face. "Well, what are you both standing there for? Garth's wants us back at the bunker so we can video chat ASAP. I suggest we get our butts in gear." She turned an about-face, her ponytail flipping back as she grabbed her bags and headed back to the Impala.

"So, wait," Dean said, breaking the silence after we had stood there for a few moments. "She knows Garth? How is that possible? I thought he was done hunting." I shrugged. Who knew what went on in Garth's mind?

I had a feeling, though, that Marina was special, and not just because she was a mer/human hybrid. Garth rarely got that upset over anyone but us and his wife, and that was only when he knew something big was going down (for example, the Apocalypse or his wife being threatened by her stepmother). I shook my head, deciding to ignore it for now, and followed Dean to the car and scrunched myself into the passenger seat.


	7. Chapter 7: Music and Family

"Dean, can I put my iPod in one of the cup holders to amplify the sound? I noticed you don't have a docking station and I want to listen to some music," Marina piped up from the backseat as we got on the road. Dean looked back sharply.

"What kind of music?" he asked warily as I looked through the songs she had in the playlist titled "Hunting with Others" that she pointed out to me as she handed me her mp3 player. Kansas, Bon Jovi, Van Halen, Asia, AC/DC...Dean would like her music just fine. I listed off a few of the artists, his smile getting wider with every name. "Sure, not a problem. Set it up, OK, Sammy? You know I suck at technology, and anyways, I'm driving." I snorted and shook my head but put the phone in the cup holder anyway, turning it all the way up.

I would never understand the average hunter's obsession with "classic" rock. I preferred more modern music, myself, but whatever. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole and all that. At least we weren't using Dean's worn-out cassettes anymore. Those things were on their last legs, anyway.

The opening chords of "Highway to Hell" started up, and I leaned back in my seat. It was going to be a long drive, and I might as well sleep as much as I could on our way to back to the bunker.

##############################

Sam leaned back and promptly closed his eyes. Sleeping to AC/DC? The giant had talent, I'd give him that. I reached into my satchel and pulled out my journal. I wanted to write down what I remembered from this hunt before I forgot. Who knows? The information might come in handy some day.

Hunted a witch. Trapped in animal form; black cat. Narrow escape. Hex bag add to accessories? Met two hunters; brothers. Sam and Dean. Know Garth; assuming safe. Weapons concealed, just in case.

What? Did you expect me to go on and on with too many adjectives describing every little thing that happened? Please; this was my field journal. Just enough to jog my memory but not give anything away if it happened to fall into the wrong hands someday.

Slipping the small, worn leather binder back into my bag, I looked out the window at the scenery (what little there was, anyway. Kansas isn't exactly known for beautiful vistas). Before I knew it, we had arrived back at the bunker.

I hadn't really gotten a good look at it from the outside last night, even with my cat night vision, so I took as much in as I could while we drove into the garage. From the outside, it looked like an old, half-buried industrial building, smokestacks and all. Of course, it was quite dated, but the guys had explained on the way to the witch's house the backstory of the place. I have to say, I was impressed with the vastness of the interior and I couldn't wait to curl up with a dusty book or two and start reading. But, I reminded myself as we walked to the library, right now I needed to call Garth and put his mind at ease.

I couldn't blame him; not really, anyway. I left a note saying I would check in and when I didn't, he was understandably upset. I hoped he would let me off the hook this time, though, considering I hadn't really been in a position to call him for the past two weeks.

Sam set up his laptop and pressed the power button, waiting for the computer to boot up. When the wi-fi kicked in, Skype opened automatically. Garth was already online and called us first. I winced. He must be really upset. I crowded next to Sam, getting my face in the frame.

Nobody said anything for awhile. It was starting to get awkward when Garth finally broke the ice. "Y'know, Mom is going to kill me. I promised to watch out for you if anything happened. Why did you run away?"

"You know perfectly well why I ran away!" I said indignantly, unable to stop the torrent that had building up inside me on our way back. "There is no way in heaven or hell I was going to just sit on my ass while the royal guard does who knows what to her! You couldn't go with me because of your family, so I left on my own. I had a chance, so I took it. End of story. I'll take whatever punishment she dishes out after I find her. Until then, just stuff it, OK? I know you didn't know her that well, but she's your mom, too." I stopped ranting, if only to catch my breath for another round. I caught myself, however, when I saw the look on Garth's face. He was hurt. "Damn it, Garth...I'm sorry, OK? I just...she's all I have. You have your work and Bess and... I don't have that luxury. Mom is it. But, regardless of my feelings, I shouldn't have thrown that in your face. I'm sorry."

He sniffled, then said, "No, you're right. She's my mom, too. I just wanted to do what was right. I didn't want to lose you. Isn't one family member enough?" Then he looked behind me at the boys. "Heh," he laughed, seeming suddenly embarrassed. "Guess you guys figured out why I never told you about mer, huh?"

"Yup, guess so," Dean replied. "So...Garth, are you a...a mer...were...guy? I mean,…"

"Nope," I interrupted, turning to face him. "Garth's a few years older than me. His dad passed on before he was born, and his mom met my dad a couple years later. Actually, he didn't even know I existed until she showed up a month ago with me in tow. I didn't know about him, either. It was a bit of a shock, but," I turned back to smile at my half-brother, "it's been pretty cool so far. Well, up until the whole royal guard thing. Speaking of which, I saw them, Garth. At the witch's house. I didn't get much, and Mom wasn't with them. They're still looking for me, though."

He sighed. "I figured as much. For right now, the safest place is, honestly, right where you are. Dean, Sam. I know it's a huge thing to ask of you guys, but...can she stay with you? Just until we get this whole mess sorted out. Please?" he asked. I have to admit, I was hoping to stay here a bit longer, too. I wasn't every day I got to scope out the Batcave.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, doing that telepathic thing that only siblings and people in serious relationships seem to be able to do. They both turned to the screen at the same time and said, "Sure." I smiled, grateful to stop running for a little while. Garth sighed in relief.

"Thanks, guys. I owe you one."

"No problem, Garth," Dean said, suddenly serious. "Now, if you don't mind, we'll get your little sister settled into the bunker and start looking for anything that relates to merkind in the library. The Men of Letters had to have come across some of them at some point. That might give us a clue where to look for your Mom."

"Great!" I said. I turned back to my brother's face onscreen. "You do the same for us. The reverend might have some information in his library we didn't run across yet. And stay safe, OK? I don't wanna have to kick your ass when I come back."

He smirked. "You got it. See ya soon, fish girl." I rolled my eyes as he logged off. Then I turned around.

"So," I asked, looking from Dean to Sam and back again. "Which room is mine?"


	8. Chapter 8: Nurse Marina

Dean, Marina, and I scoped out the bunker, looking for the perfect room. Most of them weren't much more than a closet with a bed shoved inside, but we finally found one just down the hall from the kitchen that she liked.

"Perfect. Just needs an update, is all," she said, looking around the 8' x 10' room, clearly already seeing in her mind's eye what she wanted to do with the space. "Do you mind if I do a little shopping? If I'm going to spend any time here, I want it to look nice." She thought about it for a minute or two, then seemed to change her mind. "Actually, if I could just do stuff online, that would be even better. Do we have a P.O. box where we can have stuff shipped to?" I nodded in the affirmative. "Oh, this is going to be good, I can tell..." she trailed off, throwing her duffel onto the bed. "I have my own laptop, so I won't tie up yours, if that's what you're worried about," she said, turning around to look at me when I was silent.

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm not worried. Dean and I have been pretty much on our own for most of our adult lives, so I'm just...not used to having another person around."

She half-smiled and laughed without much humor. "It's not like I've done much of this before, either. We'll just take it as it comes, yeah?" She started unpacking her things and putting clothes away in the dresser that was against the back wall next to a desk with a small gooseneck lamp.

I turned and started walking down the hall toward the library, hoping to get a jump start on the research. I stopped and turned around when I heard her call my name. "Yeah?"

She poked her head out the door, that half-smile playing across her face again. "Thanks. For letting me stay, I mean. Not many hunters would give me that chance. It...means a lot."

"Not a problem. It's been a little boring lately, anyway."

#########################################

Having my own stuff around always made me feel more secure. My own sleeping bag on the bed, my few books on the desk next to my pens and my journal...it just felt right.

While I was putting my clothes away, I searched for something to wear. After sorting through my massive collection of fandom t-shirts, skinny jeans, and mini skirts, I picked out my "The angels have the phone box" black t-shirt (hipster joke inside a hipster joke...can't get more obscure than that) and some light grey jeggings to go with my black Doc Martens. Hey, I may not have the most variety in my wardrobe, but at least I always have something to wear.

With my stuff stashed away, I packed my journal and a few pens and highlighters into my satchel, along with the regular stuff, and headed back out to the library, where I assumed Sam and Dean were researching. I was right, although Sam was the only one who seemed to actually be doing any research. Dean was...well, I'm not sure what he was doing, exactly, but it seemed to involve swinging a katana around in a pattern, stopping to itch at his right arm periodically. There was an angry red mark there, almost like he'd been burned. "Do you need something for that?" I asked as I walked in. Dean stopped twirling and Sam looked up from his computer and books.

"For what?" Sam asked, a confused look on his face. I pointed to Dean's arm and the prominent scarring. It looked angry and red. "It looks like it stings, or itches, at the least. I have some stuff in my bag that might help..." I trailed off, looking for my first aid kit I always carried. I pulled it out, then looked up at Dean, who looked wary. "I'm certified for First Aid by the Red Cross, if it makes you feel any better," I told him with a smirk.

He didn't seem to be amused, but put the sword back in its rack and came over to the table, rolling up his sleeves and placing his forearms out in front of him. I sat next to him and opened my case.

"Bandages, gauze, tweezers, aloe, antibiotics, needles, sutures,...what don't you have in there?" he asked, peering into the case while I laid out what I thought I'd need. I smiled, but didn't respond. Gauze? Check. Burn gel to soothe? Check. I turned to get a closer look at his injury, then did a double-take, my eyes opening in fear with the realization of what exactly was burned into his forearm. I drew in a shaky breath.

"Dean...what exactly is the Mark of Cain doing on your arm?" I asked, as reasonably as I could under the circumstances.


	9. Chapter 9: The Mark of Cain

"I, uh,...it's a long story," he muttered.He seemed taken aback.

I raised an eyebrow as I opened a packet of burn gel and some gauze. "I'm not exactly going anywhere, now am I?" I looked down at his arm, shuddering internally as I decided against the burn gel andlooked for something a little stronger in my kit. I finally found some of my mom's homemade ointment and smeared some onto the gauze. "This is kind of cold and it may sting a little," I said, warning him just before I scooped some out of the glass jar onto his arm, gently sweeping it over the raised welts. He hissed in a breath, then stayed very still as I placed more gauze over the ointment, then taped it down and wrapped it with an elastic bandage. When I had finished, his face had relaxed slightly and it didn't seem to be irritating him as much as it had been.

"Hey, thanks. What was that stuff, anyway? The pain's almost totally gone," he said, looking down at me.

"An ointment recipe my mom came up with when I started hunting with her. I tended to get knocked around quite a bit in the beginning. It does a number on bruises, too. I have more if you guys want a jar," I offered, looking across the table at Sam. He made a non-committal noise, not looking up from the screen in front of him. I looked back at Dean.

"So. How about that story now?" I asked impatiently. He grimaced at me, then began.

#################################################

"So...you took the oldest curse in the entire world upon yourself so you could kill a Knight of Hell?" I questioned slowly, drawing it out to make sure I understood. He nodded and I let out a slow whistle. "Well, you certainly don't do anything halfway, I'll give you that. Kudos...I think."

He glanced sideways at me, as if he expected me to explode at any moment. "You're...you're cool with it?" he asked in disbelief. I shook my head.

"I'm not _cool _with it, per se. It's just...your life, your decisions, y'know? Yagotta do what yagotta do." I pushed back from the table and stood up, stretching my arms over my head to lengthen my spine. When I finished, I saw Sam squinting at me from the other side of the table, like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve. "What?"

"How did you know that was the Mark of Cain on Dean's arm?" he asked quietly.

I thought about that for a second, then replied, "I dunno. I must've...seen it somewhere before or something. Why?"

"Because supposedly, no one has seen the Mark of Cain for about 200 years, and they died soon after. There's almost no lore on it, except what's in Genesis, and that doesn't describe the mark's appearance at all. But you knew what it was right away. How?!" he demanded, getting louder with each sentence, until he was shouting at me. I started to tear up, much to my chagrin. I've never liked being yelled at, especially by people bigger than me (which, I'll admit, is pretty much everyone). As the tears started to run down my face, Dean wrapped his arms around me protectively and glared at his brother (at least I think he glared; I couldn't see very well).

"Sam, what the hell is wrong with you? Hasn't she had enough stress lately? Her mother's been kidnapped and is God-knows-where, her half-brother is a werewolf, and she hasn't been in human form for almost a month! Jeez..." He patted my head while I cried. I'll admit, it was patronizing, but it made me feel a little safer knowing he was on my side. I sniffled, wiped my eyes, and wriggled out of Dean's grasp. I looked up at Sam, sniffling again.

"Honestly...I don't...I don't know, Sam. I just...I just know, OK? I'm not trying to hide anything from you guys, really." I rubbed my eyes again, determined to stop my eyes from leaking anymore. God, that was embarrassing. "I'll do what I can to try and remember, OK? But I can't make any promises. My head's filled with random crap like that, and I don't always remember where I picked it up. Usually from something I've read or seen, though. Look, I'll check my journal to see if there's anything in there, but I doubt it." When I looked back at him, Sam looked embarrassed at his outburst, almost more so than I was about crying at the drop of the metaphorical hat.

"Look, I'm...I'm sorry. I'm usually the cool-headed one. We just haven't had a lead in a few weeks, and I'm starting to get restless." He mashed his lips together, frustrated. "Forgive me?" he asked looking up from underneath his bangs that had fallen in his eyes during his tirade. The right corner of my mouth lifted involuntarily. Despite being too tall for his own good, he somehow managed to have puppy-dog eyes that actually worked.

"Of course I do. We're all under a lot of stress right now and we all say things we later regret. Thank-you for your honesty and your apology." I thought for a moment. "But you do have a valid point about the Mark. If what you say is true, I shouldn't know anything about it, but I do. How is that possible?"

Dean looked at Sam. "Well, there is one way we could find out." Sam cocked his head to the side and squinched his eyebrows, waiting for Dean's explanation. "Cass. He might be able to search around in there," he said, poking me in the middle of my forehead lightly, "and maybe bring up some repressed memories or whatever is keeping her from remembering where she learned about the Mark." Sam raised his eyebrows, apparently never having thought about consulting this "Cass" about my memories. Which made sense, considering I'd never heard of him.

"Um, excuse you," I retorted, gently smacking Dean's finger out of my personal space. "Mind filling me in?" They both looked at me, confused. "Who the hell is Cass, and how the hell is he going to search my head for repressed memories or whatever? I am _not_ going to let anyone do brain surgery on me. Ya got that?"

Sam smiled a little. "You wanna call him, Dean? I know he doesn't have wings anymore, but he should still be able to get here. He listens to you more than me, anyway. We can fill Marina in while we wait." Wings? Was the dude a pilot or something?

"Sure thing." Dean then closed his eyes and started to...pray? "Hey, Cass. It's Dean. Look, I know we haven't spoken in awhile, but, uh...Sam and I need your help. We've got a situation at the bunker that we could really use your mojo for. We're not in danger, but I think you'll want to see this. Um...so yeah. Get your feathery ass over here ASAP, OK, buddy?" He opened his eyes, then laughed outright at the look on my face. Sam joined in, while I looked back and forth between the two of them, totally confused. Wings? Feathery ass? What the _hell_ were they talking about?!

"Sorry, Marina. We shouldn't laugh, especially when we haven't explained. See...Cass is an angel," Dean said. I blinked, waiting for him to give me information that actually related to the topic at hand.

"What does his character have to do with anything?" I finally asked when they didn't provide any more information. "I mean, I'm glad he's nice and everything, but how does that relate to our situation?" Sam leaned forward.

"That's not exactly what Dean meant when he said that Cass is an angel. I mean, Cass is nice, but...angel is his _species._ Specifically, he's a seraph, and his name is Castiel; Cass is just our nickname for him. Most angels are...how do you put it, Dean? Oh, yeah: dicks with wings. Castiel is cool, though. He's saved our lives more often than I would care to admit. But I'll let you see for yourself when he gets here." They looked expectantly at me, waiting for something.

"An...angel? Seriously?" I asked, waiting to see if they were joking. Dean nodded. "Damn...talk about a paradigm shift. I mean...angels. Wow. That's new." I breathed out a huff of air. "Wait, why doesn't he have wings anymore? Doesn't that make him a fallen angel and therefore a traitor of Heaven?"

"Remember that huge meteor shower about six months ago?" Sam asked. I nodded. "Well, those weren't meteors. They were angels. Every single angel fell from heaven at once, except for one: Metatron. We'll tell you about him later, but long story short, none of the angels have wings now, which means they can't just fly wherever they want anymore. They still hear prayers, though, which is why we know Cass should be here soon. He and Dean have a...'profound bond.'" He snickered at this, and Dean punched him in the arm, glaring at his brother. Sam held up his arms in a "don't shoot the messenger" pose. "Hey, man. I'm just quoting him. Don't get your boxers in a bunch." I turned to look at Dean.

"'A profound bond'?What does that does that mean? Are you, like..._with_ him?" I asked, began to laugh, and Dean punched him again, harder this time. Before Dean could say anything, however, I said, "Look, I really don't care if you are or not. It was just a question. My mom's human and my dad was mer. I'm not exactly in a place to judge, even if I wanted to." Sam choked back his laughter this time, trying to disguise it as a coughing fit.

"_No_, we're not _together_. We're just...really good friends. He saved me from Hell. Literally. I believe his exact words were, 'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,'" he said, shaking his head. "Youdon't exactly forget an introduction like that."

I raised my eyebrows. "I know I certainly wouldn't. So...you've been to hell?"

"And Purgatory and Heaven. Both of us." He looked at me like he expected me to start screaming any second. When I didn't, it seemed to confuse him. "You know, you're taking this awfully well. The existence of angels, an afterlife. Shouldn't you, I don't know, be asking for proof or denying it or something?"

I smiled. "Sweetie," I said in the most condescending tone I could muster, "I'm half mer, and my mom's a hunter. I've learned that there's a lot more to the world than I will ever understand, and that's OK. Besides, if I knew everything, I'd be God, and I am not applying for _that_ position any time soon. I've got enough on my plate as it is, thank-you very much."


	10. Chapter 10: Research

Sam's POV

Dean, Marina, and I decided we would start researching mer while we waited for Castiel to show up. Dean wanted to use the internet, but I knew how fast Dean would be able to "research" while actually looking for porn, so I vetoed that pretty quick. Plus, Marina said she'd already scoured the internet and hadn't found anything new or interesting, at least about mer, so we hit the stacks, looking for any book that could possibly contain information on her dad's species.

I had to admit, there wasn't much. Mostly general mythology that happened to mention mermaids, and most of that was highly inaccurate, according to Marina. "We do like pretty things, though. Most of the mer are hoarders. Remember Ariel's grotto in Disney's The Little Mermaid? Totally true. I used to have a fork collection," she told me, looking over my shoulder as she brought more books to the table. When she let them fall, a small cloud of dust flew up, and she coughed.

"Where did you find those?" I asked. They looked pretty old, all uneven parchment pages and leather-bound.

"In the back, near the classical mythology section. I thought I'd see if they had anything on Poseidon, Triton, or Neptune. If anyone knew about the mer, it would be them." She sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face and leaning forward, putting her hands on the table. "I have a feeling these books aren't going to be in English, though. You got Google translate up on that computer of yours?" she asked, popping up out of her chair and looking over my shoulder again.

I smiled. "I've got something better. Did you ever watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Of course. But what do vampires have to do with mermaids?"

"Nothing. But do you remember when they were scanning books into the library system and accidentally uploaded a demon onto the internet? It was around season one or two, pretty early on," I said.

"Yeah! That was a weird one. Didn't the machine translate the handwriting, so it was technically reading the document, which is what released the demon in the first place?" she asked.

I smiled. "Yup. Well, I actually got some software that does the same thing awhile ago, after I was looking through the library and realized I wouldn't be able to read half of these books if my life depended on it. That should make it go a lot faster."

"You're kidding! Sam, that's great!" She squeezed my shoulder, bouncing on her toes in her excitement. She hurried back over to the stack of books she'd brought over. "I think this one is in Greek. But," she flipped the pages, wrinkling her brow, "it also looks like some Hebrew and Latin got tossed in here, as well. Do you think we'd be able to translate all of it in one go, or do we have to scan it once for each language?"

I shrugged. "Not sure. I guess we won't know until we try, though." I reached out my hands for the large tome. She started to hand it over, then pulled it back. I looked up, confused.

"Where's Dean? I haven't seen him in awhile. Shouldn't we tell him about this?"

"You're right. Dean!" I yelled, leaning back in my chair and craning my neck, hoping to see his form in between all the books. I heard some scuffling, then a muffled, "Yeah?" from the other side of the shelves. "C'mere, we think we found something."

He hurried over. "What is it? Anything new?"

"I can't read Greek or Latin very well, but I know what Poseidon and Neptune's names look like when I see them," Marina piped up. "These books are chock full of references to both of them, but other than that, I have no idea what else could be in here. Sam has some translating software that should be able to make it so we can read whatever's written here." She bounced a little again, obviously happy we were making progress in our search. "Did you find anything interesting, Dean?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah, just a bunch of stuff that we already knew or was bogus. Not much, really."

"Darn. Well...we've been at this for a couple hours now. Are you guys getting hungry, or is it just me?"

A couple of hours? Wow, it was almost two in the afternoon. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was until she mentioned it, but I was suddenly ravenous. "Yeah, I could eat something. How about you, Dean?"

"Aw, y'know me. I'm always hungry. You know your way around a kitchen, Marina? We'd both be happy to help if you need it," Dean offered.

"No, I'm fine. Just point me to the fridge and I'll whip something up for us while you guys catch up on the lore. Let me know if you have any questions that you think I can answer, alright?" Dean told her where the kitchen was, and we started in the thick books on the table. It was going to be a long day.

##################################################

Marina's POV

Let's see what two single men in their thirties have in their cupboards, shall we? I said to myself. Bread, peanut butter, frozen burritos, lunch meat, raw hamburger, bagged salad mixes, a couple bottles of dressing, a few fresh fruits and veggies...they were actually pretty well-stocked. I quickly made a few turkey-and-cheese grilled sandwiches on the stove and put some baby carrots on the side of each plate. I stepped back and surveyed my handiwork. Iron chef material I am not, but at least my sandwiches were OK.

I took a plate in each hand and one on my forearm (I was careful not to let anything drop). Sam was looking back and forth between the book and his computer screen, and Dean was standing up from looking over his shoulder. "I got nothing. Honestly, I've never heard anything like that. And what's with the mixing of the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew? It's like some theology student got bored and wrote a bunch of mumbo-jumbo."

"Not going so well, boys?" I asked, setting the plates down and taking a bite out of my sandwich. Sam sighed.

"No. It translated it all in one go, which was nice. But I have absolutely no idea what any of it means. Listen to this:

_**When a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Gaia shall come together, the fruit of their union will be the Mercy of Yahweh. The Mercy of Yahweh will walk among both angels and demons, but not belong to either of them. Both angels and demons have turned their backs on the Mercy of Yahweh. Not so with the sons of man. The Mercy of Yahweh will serve Artemis and guide the sons of men into battle against both Paradise and Sheol, and they shall emerge victorious. However, Victory comes at a terrible price: after the battle is won, never again shall the Mercy of Yahweh lead mankind, for there shall no longer be a need for the Mercy of Yahweh. **_

"Seriously. That's what it says. I mean, the mixed mythologies are enough as it is: the Judeo-Christian god Yahweh, interspersed with Greek gods and goddesses. Not to mention "the mercy of Yahweh" is one word, almost like a name. And what the heck is a son of Poseidon, or for that matter, a daughter of Gaia? And the Latin bit thrown in there about angels and demons...I wouldn't even know where to start." He shook his head.

I was about to say that I was confused as hell, too. I mean, seriously: who thought up that passage? But before I could, I heard a door above creak open and a deep voice say, "Dean, this had better be important. I tire easily without my wings, and I was quite a distance away." A dark-haired man in a tan trench coat appeared at the top of the balcony and looked down. I already had my gun in my hand, ready to fire, but when he mentioned the wings, I took a closer look.

"You Castiel?" I asked, gun still trained on the man's chest.

"Yes. I am Castiel. Please put the gun away. I may be without my wings, but I am still an angel. A gun would be useless if you decided to engage me in combat." I lowered my arms and Dean shot me a glare.

"Please try not to threaten our guests when they enter the bunker," Sam remarked to me drily as Castiel descended the stairs, coming towards us. "We have so few visitors as it is." I smiled at that as I holstered my gun.

"Cass, it's good to see you, buddy," Dean said as he wrapped his arms around the man with the trench coat and stubble in a bear hug. It was returned, although not as enthusiastically. So "Cass" wasn't much of a hugger. Shocker.

"I missed being in your presence as well, Dean. However, that is not why I have come. You said that you had something I should see here?"

Dean laughed a little, running one hand through his hair and sticking the other in his back pocket. "Actually, it's someone. Castiel, I'd like you to meet Marina. She's...a new addition to Team Free Will, actually."

"Hello, Castiel. It's nice to finally meet you in person," I said, holding out my hand. He didn't take it. After about 15 seconds of awkward silence, I pulled it back. "Okay...awkward." I laughed nervously. He seemed to be studying me: not frowning, exactly, but not smiling, either. When he finally spoke, it was very slowly.

"What...are you?" he asked, stepping rather close. The blood rushed from my face as I realized he knew I wasn't fully human. I backed away slowly, tripping over a chair leg and falling on my ass rather ungracefully (_is_ there a graceful way to fall on your ass?). Sam stepped in front of me, blocking Castiel's view of me, and mine of him. I got up and dusted myself off, but made no move to get in front of Sam again. When you have a voluntary human shield that big, you tend to take what you can get. I peeked around him to see what was going on, though.

"Cass, what the hell? That was totally rude! You scared her!" Dean protested, pulling on said angel's arm.

"Did I say something inappropriate, Dean? She is not human, angel, or demon; you must have realized that by now."

"Yeah, we know she's not human, Cass. That doesn't give you the right to get in her space and make her uncomfortable. Plus...she'...kinda rare," Sam explained. "Technically, it's against the laws of her people (well, some of them) for her to even exist. Of course she's scared that you see right through her carefully-built façade." He sighed, and Castiel looked down at his feet, embarrassed.

"I am truly sorry for causing you to fear me, Marina. That was not my intention at all. Please accept my sincere apology." He looked into my eyes as he said this, and I could see the honesty and innocence there. He was only curious and I couldn't blame him for that. He did make me nervous, though. I bit my lip, then stepped out from behind Sam (though I stayed close).

"Apology totally accepted. I'm just a little...jumpy lately. Can we start over?" He nodded. "I'm Marina, and I already know you are Castiel. It's nice to finally meet you." I held out my hand again. This time, he took it, though I still felt like a sample under a microscope when he looked at me.

"It is an honor to make your aquaintance, Marina. I would still like my original question answered, though. I agree with Sam: you are indeed rare, so rare that I do not recognize your species. This puzzles me greatly, as I have lived for eons and never come across one of your kind on this world, or any other for that matter. I am curious; that is all. You may rest assured that I will keep your secret safe. I simply wish to understand."

I smiled. "I "wish to understand" as well. My father was mer and my mother was human, so I guess I'm technically a new species, unless there are other hybrids out there that I don't know about. As far as I know, I'm the only one." He looked down at my legs, obviously confused about my current lack of tail. "I only have a tail when my lower body is submerged in water."

"Yup. Freakin' dolphin tail all the way up to her waist." That was Dean. "One of the coolest things I've ever seen, by the way," he added, looking at me. I smiled. It was a nice change to not have to hide a part of myself all of the time.

"That is very interesting. I am glad I had the chance to meet you. Dean called and said that I was needed, though. I fail to see what for," he said, turning to speak to Dean once more.

"Oh, that. See, Marina remembers facts and stuff that she's not sure how she knows. Like symbols and stuff that are super old and no one should be able to remember them. She has no idea how she knows them; she just does."

"And the boys were wondering if you would mind poking around in my head to see what you can find: y'know, suppressed memories, past lives, things like that. I don't mind, actually. I would prefer if you kept most of what you saw to yourself, though. I'd...rather not share my all my secrets just yet. No offense, guys," I said, turning to the brothers, "but there's some things I don't share with anyone if I can help it. Would you mind?" I asked, turning back to Castiel and waiting to see his reaction.

He thought for a moment. "No, I do not think I would mind. I will need to make you unconscious in order to fully access your memories. Perhaps you should find a comfortable place to lie down before we begin."

I thought for a moment. "Would my room be alright? I'm sure the boys could bring in a chair for you to sit in or something while you work."

"Your room should be sufficient for our needs. Please, lead the way. Dean, could you bring me a chair?"


End file.
